She tried not to look directly, but the scene before her didn't make it any easier. She felt her cheeks turning into two tomatoes in season.
"Why are you without clothes?" she asked, averting her gaze as if the ground had suddenly become fascinating.
The other, with a mischievous smile that he clearly used as a standard accessory, responded in a tone bordering on the self-sufficiency of someone who believes they have a PhD in provocation:
"Are you sure, Princess, that this is what they taught you about 'being without clothes'? I think someone gave you some very confusing lessons. If you want, I could give you a more... illustrative lesson."
And with that, calmly and without a shred of shame, he lowered his hands to the button of his pants, as if this were an academic demonstration.
Her eyes widened at such a response, and in a reflex as quick as it was clumsy, she covered her eyes with both hands as she took a few steps back, straight to crashing backward into a large glass window she probably never thought she'd know so intimately.
Around her, a chuckle sounded, faint but clearly directed at her. She didn't need to see it to know he was making fun of her. And of course, he was still a jerk with a PhD in arrogance.
